Signs of Melancholy
by LittleBiscuit
Summary: An unclear distress signal, a ship adrift? What's in store for Enterprise? ON HOLD - INDEFINITELY Though I might finish this later
1. Chapter 1

Hey everybody, so after a long absence I have returned to write more fanfiction! I have every intention to finish this particular story and I hope I won't leave you hanging. Reviews are always very welcome and I'm still searching for a Beta reader :) Now, here we go...

* * *

The water battered down on his head, making his wet hair drip and fall into a small curtain in front of his eyes. The water continued streaming down his back towards the ground where it pooled at his feet, fighting to all go down the drain at once.

Malcolm stood there staring at his hands, which trembled slightly. He didn't know why they did that sometimes, it had only started a few weeks prior. He willed them to stop the involuntary movement and continued massaging the back of his neck and washing his hair with shampoo. He could smell the aroma of the shampoo as the artificially enhanced scents of sweet fruits from filled his nose. He washed it out as quickly as possible and allowed himself one more minute under the hot shower before he shut off the water flow and stepped out of the small damp room.

He took a towel from beside the washing basin and effectively dried his hair and body. He glanced up towards his reflection and smirked slightly as he saw his hair sticking out in all directions. He wondered how people would react if the always orderly Malcolm Reed just left it like so and stepped out of his quarters looking like this. The idle thought vanished as quickly as it had come and he proceeded to flatten his hair with a comb and applied some standard Starfleet-issued deodorant, one that wasn't scented, which he preferred.

The Brit gingerly stepped out of his bathroom, he surveyed the room in one quick sweep of his eyes and silently sighed inwardly as he saw the fresh uniform on his bed. It was his day off and he'd decided to hit the gym later on, which called for a sweatshirt and an easy pair of trousers, however, he had yet to have breakfast and he just didn't feel comfortable wearing his off duty clothes while in public places like the mess hall. He decided to don his uniform for the time being, even if this meant he was going through his stock of fresh uniforms rather more quickly than he had anticipated. A few 'accidents' in the armoury had already taken care of half of his uniforms for this week, and it was only just Wednesday.

He checked if any messages had come in from the armoury, but there were none. However, he knew that by midday he would have already given the armoury at least one visit, just as he knew that they would be expecting him. As he was preparing to leave his quarters to get some breakfast, he felt a small head ache building up behind his temples.

He hadn't really slept all that well the previous night, Trip had decided it would be fun to organise a horror movie night and had practically ordered him to attend it. The only reason why the movies deserved to be called horror were because of how horribly bad they had been and the attempts of _some _of the crew to scare the lot of them with spooky noises from the comm. had been pathetic at best. He just hoped the headache wouldn't evolve into a full blown carnival parade marching around inside his head. He went back to the mirror and looked into his face to see if there were any outward signs of tiredness. Grey and alert eyes looked back at him, but there were small hints of shadows below them.

_No more boring 21__st__century horror flicks for next 10 years, Mister Tucker._ He thought. He made a mental note to visit the doctor for some painkillers if the headache hadn't fled the depths of his dark, sarcastic mind after he finished his workout later in the morning.

* * *

"Hmm, mango and...yes, passionfruit! You washed your hair." A voice said from behind and Malcolm rolled his eyes and answered this observation with a muffled reply that was unintelligible because of the scrambled eggs he had just stuffed in his mouth. Trip grinned stupidly as he took a seat across of the armoury officer and began attacking his own meal, consisting of blueberry pancakes, bacon, sausages and other unhealthy things, with a sense of importance and determination. Malcolm observed the smear of grease across the engineer's cheek and the man's ruffled blond hair. He glanced up towards the chronometer on the wall and noticed it was halfway between breakfast and lunch. He smirked because he knew that Trip was supposed to be on duty. 

"Having an early lunch, commander?" He observed innocently, proceeding to nibble carefully on a bit of toast.

"Can't blame a hungry man's needs now, Lieutenant." Trip answered jovially and continued shoving down more pancakes and taking a large draught of coffee. Malcolm himself put his fork down and reached towards his tea. When he lifted his cup, however, his hand trembled slightly, and he quickly clasped his other hand around the cup and steadied his arms by placing his elbows firmly on the table. He glanced up to see if the other man had noticed anything. If Trip had, he didn't show it as he proceeded to finish his lunch. Malcolm sipped his drink and welcomed the relaxing sensation that herbal tea always seemed to evoke in him. He closed his eyes as he tried to block out the headache that was still reluctant to disappear. He heard Trip mutter something and his eyes fluttered open. He gazed at the engineer and tilted his head. "Hmm?"

"I said, don't you need something with more caffeine in the mornin'? You almost seemed ready to go back to sleep just now." Trip said, gesturing towards the tea Malcolm was holding. "You need something better than just that weak herbal-nonsense tea. What do they put in there anyway?" He asked, wrinkling his nose. Malcolm raised an eyebrow in mock self-defence, but then proceeded to grin evilly.

"Unlike you, commander, I do not need to fill myself from top to bottom with coffee to be able to do my duty. But if you're saying you need stuff like caffeine to get through the day, I think I can help you with that. Nothing is better to alert the senses than a nice sparring session in the gym, don't you think?" Malcolm replied, casually, and saw with no small satisfaction that Trip's eyes were widening."Why don't you join me around, let's see, when it's _actually_ time for lunch?" He finished, topping his invitation with a polite smile. Trip gulped down the rest of his coffee in one go and smiled nervously.

"That's real nice of you, Mal, but I think, uh, I've used up my lunch breaks for today. Now I really have to go back to engineering, you know what they can get up to when the boss's away, right?" And with that, he excused himself and left the mess hall. Malcolm leaned back in the chair, finishing his tea and felt slightly guilty though satisfied that his sparring invitation where always greeted with such..._enthusiasm._

* * *

"Captain," Hoshi's voice drifted over to where Jon was sitting in his chair, staring out to the stars on the view screen, penetrating the almost trance-like state he had gone into. He had slid down a few inches in the uneventful last few hours and he abruptly sat up straight. "I am picking up a distress signal." Hoshi continued, one hand on her earpiece, her hand cocked slightly to one side as she tried to make sense of the message. "Audio only." 

Jon's attention was completely on her as he felt the familiar sense of anticipation building up in his stomach. "Let's hear it." He said, waiting eagerly for the message, though at the same time dreading what it had to say. Static burst from Hoshi's station as she put the message through. A few seconds passed and the crackles of deep space echoed around the bridge, then, abruptly, a voice could be heard. It spoke a language Jon was not familiar with, and the short bursts of incoherent words were a surprise to him as he had almost expected to hear normal English.

"Putting it through the UT." Hoshi, announced, her hands flying over her console as he tapped in the commands, another few moments passed, but then the voice changed, and words spoken in plain English, though attacked by static, floated up from Hoshi's station.

"Or any ship's out there, we ...der attack... by... hosti... req... assistance... lease... ake... sure... erous." There was a brief stop, as static loudly took over the message and the voice was drowned out once again. There was some silence and Jon was just about to ask if that was all of it before the voice suddenly returned, almost startling him. "Not... hip! ...epeat, ...ostil ...vorms!" The message fizzled, then died, leaving nothing but silence on the bridge. Jon cleared his throat, and looked up towards T'Pol. Opening his mouth to ask something, he was interrupted by the Vulcan's calm voice.

"I'm scanning for ships on long range sensors." She announced, her face betraying no emotion as she took in the information that scrolled across her station. Jon just nodded and waited in anticipation of any news. Hoshi looked up from her station. "The message was heavily damaged, I believe the ship is quite a distance away from us, though most probably the message originated from sector zero one-six." T'Pol finished scanning and lifted her eyes to meet that of the captain's.

"I have detected a ship, bearing zero-two-zero mark one-six. It is possible there could be more ships close by, though with Enterprise's sensors it is impossible to tell from this distance." She said matter-of-factly. Jon rose from his chair and looked around at his officers, before saying what he had already decided back when Hoshi had first told them about the distress signal.

"Travis, lay in a course, warp 4.6." He turned around to T'Pol and she met his eyes, her face carefully neutral. "T'Pol, inform the crew and alert me when we are ready to approach the ship. I'll be in my ready room, you have the bridge." T'Pol nodded her silent approval and moved forward elegantly towards the captain's chair. Immediately a junior member of the science team took over the science officer's station. Jon turned and headed to his ready room just outside the bridge.

* * *

"Hold still, Lieutenant." Phlox voice had that irritating sing-songy ring to it, even though Malcolm could hear the clear undertone in it, which was laced with determination. The armoury officer sighed, stopped shifting on the biobed, and moved his eyes towards the many cages that held so many of Phlox's _fascinating_ creatures. However, the lack of movement on his part didn't last long as he flinched away from the doctor's touch when the Denobulan examined his knuckles. He heard the doctor tssking him under his breath, and he felt almost like a little boy again. He let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to face Phlox. 

"Doctor, I only came here for something against my headache, I didn't ask for a full _check-up._" He said the last word through gritted teeth as the doctor prodded his hand. Phlox looked up to him with something of a look that told him that he didn't have much to say in this matter. He turned back to Malcolm's hand, and then asked merrily; "How did it happen?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows, ignoring the obvious because he wanted to change the subject.

"What, the headache? It was just..sort of, there, when I woke up." He said innocently. Phlox blew out his breath and let go of Malcolm's arm.

"Not your headache, Lieutenant, _this._" He replied, pointing towards Malcolm's swollen index finger. Malcolm looked down at his hand. "Oh. That." He hadn't wanted the doctor to fuzz over him like every time he visited sickbay, so he had tried to avoid the subject of his swollen finger. He'd hidden the hand when he had come in, but the doctor wasn't easily fooled and had immediately turned his attention to the injury.

Malcolm shrugged, faking disinterest."Nothing to be concerned about." He replied. Phlox shot him a _look_.

"Lieutenant, I am the ship's _physician, _you clearly came here seeking my medical expertise--"

"For my headache!" Malcolm shot back, but Phlox ignored him.

"---and I can see you need it. Now, how did you develop this injury?" He asked, a bit more firmly this time. Malcolm rolled his eyes, but stopped when he saw that the doctor had caught this movement. He let his shoulders slump. "Sparring." He murmured softly, almost hoping the doctor didn't catch the word.

"Sparring, hmm?" Phlox replied, and Malcolm silently cursed Phlox's ability to hear better than humans, an ability which he seemed to share with every other alien species in the galaxy.

"I'm surprised your opponent isn't here to receive medical attention as well." Phlox carried on, grinning an unnatural large grin.

Malcolm gritted his teeth. "You're looking at him." He hissed, staring at a point a little below the doctor's head, as to not look the man in his face. Phlox's eyebrows rose steadily and Malcolm had to suppress another sigh.

"I was sparring against my reflection." He answered the questioning look. He leaned back, sulking, and examined his swollen finger with distaste. The doctor turned around, chuckling, as he grabbed a hypospray.

* * *

"Bridge to Lieutenant Reed." 

Malcolm stopped in his tracks. His headache had cleared and the swelling of his finger had gone down after his visit to Sickbay. In short, he was feeling better and had been heading to his quarters, however, the unexpected call from the bridge made him alert and a little tense.

"Reed here." He replied, as he pressed the comm. button which he had located quickly on the opposite wall of the corridor.

"Sorry to bother you on your day off, Malcolm, but I'd rather you report to bridge as soon as you can." The captain's voice floated out of the comm. Well, this didn't sound like an immediate emergency and Malcolm hadn't really planned anything for the afternoon, so he didn't really mind. He shrugged but then remembered that this kind of gesture was lost when talking over an audio-only system.

"Is there a problem captain?" He asked, wondering what was going on.

"We've received a distress signal but haven't been able to locate the ones responsible for the attack. I'd rather have you on the bridge when we drop out of warp." The captain said, his voice neutral but serious and Malcolm wondered what the distress message had said.

"I'm on my way, sir." Malcolm replied and closed the channel. He headed to his quarters to pick up his uniform and immediately the Tactical Officer's side of his personality kicked in.

A few minutes later he stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. The captain turned towards him and nodded a silent greeting, and Malcolm noticed the grim lines besides the captain's eyes that always seemed to appear in situations like this. He relieved Mckenzie from the tactical station and took up his position. Quickly he read the information that rolled across his console and noticed only one ship, not far away, though he couldn't tell yet if it was heavily damaged or not while Enterprise was still in warp. The captain turned to T'Pol who responded his questioning look by reading up information from her station.

"It will take another 5 minutes to reach our destination. I am still only detecting one ship...there is no sign of a hostile ship nearby." She stated, and the captain returned his attention to the view screen, though there wasn't much to see there. Malcolm was relieved that the attackers seemed to have already left, though this might not mean much. Their ship could be cloaked, and even if they had gone, did that mean they were too late to save the ship and the crew that had been attacked? Nervously he waited as the minutes passed by, but then finally Enterprise dropped out of warp.

"On screen." The captain ordered, and a second later the view screen was filled with the form of a ship. It seemed to be a cargo hauler, but it was heavily damaged and Malcolm could hear the collective intake of breath as they observed the damage. The ship was adrift, the hull seemed to have taken quite a beating and scattered across it large holes were visible. There were small pieces of debris floating around aimlessly in the space around it.

"Life signs?" The captain asked softly, as he tore his eyes away from the view screen and proceeded to shift his gaze from Malcolm to T'pol. "None that I can detect, sir." Malcolm replied quickly, while he took in the information that popped up on his console.

"Captain, I am reading an unusual amount of radiation that seems to be coming from the ship's damaged core. It is possible that the radiation is intervening with our sensors and is preventing us from getting a clear reading." T'Pol interjected. The captain turned sharply towards her. "Are you suggesting there are people aboard that ship who are still alive?" He asked, his gaze pinning her down. T'Pol looked back without even blinking an eye.

"I am merely stating that our sensors may not be giving the correct information, and could, in this case, be missing life signs that may or may not be on that ship." The captain looked at her for a few more seconds before returning his attention to the view screen.

"Very well, is there any danger in a team going over there and having a look around?" He asked, and T'Pol returned her gaze to her station. "I believe the radiation is harmless to humanoids, thus I can see no problems if the away team keeps to the decks that have not been decompressed. I have detected a docking port that is still functioning near the port nacelle." She replied and Malcolm tensed, he knew the order would come soon. The captain turned towards him and nodded silently.

"Malcolm, I want you and T'Pol to check it out. Take Trip with you." The Brit nodded stiffly and then replied; "Captain, even though there are no obvious ships in the vicinity I think it would be unwise to proceed without backup. We don't know what attacked this ship... and even though how unlikely it may seem, we must take into account that the attackers could still be aboard." The captain nodded in acknowledgement of the tactical officer's worries, even though he had doubt written all over his face.

"You can take a team with you, Malcolm, though keep in mind we only have one shuttlepod." The captain said and smiled slightly. Malcolm nodded his thanks, and stood to join T'Pol who was already waiting in the turbolift.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews!

Azylynx and Begoogled: I'm sorry I didn't make it clear. There is only one shuttlepod because there's only one docking port to dock at :)

On with the story!

* * *

The Vulcan science officer wrinkled her nose slightly and Trip, not nearly as skilled in suppressing outward signs of discomfort, screwed up his face in disgust as the foul smell reached his nose. Malcolm had problems keeping a straight face as well when a wave of nausea hit him, however he kept his attention to the job at hand and didn't let the odour bother him. As soon as they had stepped out of the shuttlepod the damp, still air had swallowed the team up entirely, engulfing the officers in a moist, foul smelling blanket that seemed to have been left laying in a corner of a bathroom for weeks without washing.

Malcolm signalled to Sergeant Kemper to take up a position next to the doorway while he took up a position in front of the opening. He had left Corporal Romero to guard the shuttlepod while the team investigated the alien ship. Phasepistol at the ready, the chief of security shot a questioning glance at T'pol, who held a scanner in front of her. A circuit sparked in the darkness of the corridor beyond as she gazed at the display, taking readings from their surroundings, while keeping a calm, professional attitude. After several seconds she looked up and she tilted her heads slightly. Malcolm had come to know the Vulcan well enough to recognize this as the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.

"I'm not detecting any bio-signs." She announced. Malcolm nodded, but nevertheless returned his attention to the dark corridor, eyeing the shadows with an air of cautiousness. Except for the occasional sparking of blown out circuitry in the distance, the ship seemed deadly silent.

"Could the radiation still be interfering with your scans?" He offered, finding it a little strange that their arrival had gone unnoticed so far, though it was understandable seeing the bad shape the ship was in.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "Unlikely. Within the capable range of the scanner I should be picking up bio-signs as I am picking up ours."

"Guess they don't much care for welcome parties." Trip said, with a hint of a smile on his face. However, the chief engineer quickly returned to a more serious tone and a slightly worried expression chased away the smile. "There might not be any survivors...Whoever attacked them did quite a number on the ship."

"Only one way to find out." Malcolm answered and continued first down the corridor. The team followed him and they moved deeper into the vessel, which seemed to be a dense maze of corridors. With the help of T'Pol they tried to navigate their way towards something more important than hallways, like engineering. The corridors were badly lit; the main power seemed to be offline. Emergency lights were located every couple of feet, though they cast eerie shadows that seemed to emphasize the darkness more than actually help light the place. Malcolm felt uncomfortable, even though they hadn't come across a singly alien being yet. Then again, maybe that was the problem... _where had the crew gone? _

The corridor they had been following suddenly widened and there were separate corridors flowing of to the right and the left. However, the hallway they were standing in continued forward, the walls spreading out to each side far enough to disappear in the darkness. The emergency lights just seemed to stop without warning and Malcolm, who had been leading the team, came to an abrupt halt. The stench was like a sudden wall he had walked into, the disgusting odour blocking out all smells as it attacked the armoury officer's senses so vigorously he could almost taste it. The air was thick here. So thick, in fact, he felt that if he leant back on his heels he could lean on it without falling.

He noticed that the Sergeant had silently taken up a position next to him, the MACO's face a silent battlefield of suppressed disgust and nausea. Coughing noises made him turn around to Trip, who held a hand in front of his nose to block out the smell, his eyes watery. Malcolm shot a quick glance at T'Pol as well, who he knew had a far superior sense of smell and he briefly sympathized with her as he saw the uncomfortable look on her face. Uncomfortable for Vulcan standards, anyway. Then Malcolm's thoughts returned to the situation at hand and he searched for the flashlights he had stuffed in his pocket. With a click a small bundle of light appeared, illuminating the floor directly in front of his feet. He clearly remembered it casting a far more powerful beam than this back on Enterprise, but now the darkness in the alien ship seemed to swallow it up almost immediately. With one hand safely around his phasepistol, he lifted the flashlight with the other and illuminated the room in front of them. A sharp intake of breath from Trip informed him that the rest of the team were seeing exactly what he was seeing. Malcolm opened his mouth, which felt dry and bitter, and heard his own hoarse voice;

"T'Pol?" He asked, but the Science Officer was already studying the scanner in her hand.

"I am not detecting any signs of life." She answered his unspoken question and Malcolm stepped forward, studying the bodies that were laying against the far wall. T'Pol followed him, kneeling at the nearest dead alien. The aliens appeared to have white hair, which was short and was thickest near their ears. Their foreheads had noticeable ridges and they all appeared to wear the same purplish tunic. T'Pol turned the body around and the humanoids face was a green/blueish colour that seemed even unnatural for an alien. His eyes had turned inward into his skull and the mouth was open, at the side of which it seemed that some sort of foam or maybe saliva had trickled down from it. The front of the alien's tunic was covered in sticky blood. Malcolm motioned for the Sergeant to take up a position at the other end of the room to keep an eye out for potential attackers. As T'Pol started her scans, Malcolm walked over to the other remaining bodies. There were six of them, and the aliens all seemed to have died a rather unpleasant death. He looked up and saw Trip standing next to T'Pol, staring down at the corpse with a horror struck expression on his face. Waving towards the wound on the alien's stomach, the engineer turned towards T'Pol.

"Weapon's fire?" He asked, sounding uncertain and Malcolm, standing at the other side of the room, already shook his head in silence before T'Pol had even answered.

"I am not detecting any traces of a plasma or energy based weapon." The Vulcan answered. "However, that doesn't mean it isn't a valid explanation."

"I don't think he was killed by a gun or pistol of any sort." Malcolm cut in, walking over to the other two officers. "The wound looks wrong." He explained when Trip shot him a questioning look. "No scorch marks, and if it was a projectile weapon the wound wouldn't be so extensive."

"What are those marks?" Kemper called out from across the room, he was standing right next to one of the bodies and he was indicating to the alien's arm. "They're on some of the other bodies, too." He added, when the he noticed the blank stares both Trip and Malcolm were giving him.

"I have noticed them as well." T'Pol answered the sergeant's question. "They appear to be puncture marks, though I cannot say what caused them. They do not appear to be significant injuries."

T'Pol stood up and lowered her scanner. "I have taken scans for Doctor Phlox to examine when we return to Enterprise, in the mean time I suggest we look for Engineering, which is the closest, and access the ship's logs to find out who attacked the ship." She said, sparing the bodies not one further glance as she addressed the Starfleet officers. Both Trip and Malcolm nodded in agreement. "My scans suggest that it's not much further." Trip tore his gaze from the bloodied alien body and his eyes met those of Malcolm.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant." Trip said softly, motioning for the team to continue. Malcolm gave a curt nod to acknowledge the engineer and then turned and joined Kemper. There was a tense feeling in the air after the team's encounter with the bodies. Malcolm had grown extremely alert, suddenly the off change of the attackers still being aboard didn't seem so unlikely any more.

A few corridors and turns later, Malcolm found out that a short walk in Vulcan terminology was not short at all in that of Human's. Though they did not stumble across any more bodies, the mood had been set and the Brit would be glad if the team was back safely aboard Enterprise. Finally Kemper called out when a light appeared at the end of the semi-dark corridor. When the team reached it, it was revealed to be the entrance to the ship's engineering. Alien symbols scrolled across display screens mounted on the walls. The warp engine stood magnificently at the centre of the room, instantly drawing the attention of Trip. Malcolm's intention of cautiousness disappeared immediately when the engineer stepped inside and walked straight to the core. Not anything like either of them had ever seen, the warp core shone brilliantly with yellowish light, the outer shell seemed to consist of a glass like material. However, Malcolm couldn't find the same kind of admiration for it as Trip as he tried to catch up with the man.

"Commander, I suggest we get what we came for and get out of here as soon as we can." He said stiffly, but when he got no reply he narrowed his eyes. "Trip, we don't have time for this. Let's go."

Trip finally turned his attention to the armoury officer, his eyes glowing with excitement. "Mal, I've never seen a design like this before! It's amazing...if we take some scans I think we could learn a thing or two." Seemingly oblivious to Malcolm's earlier request as the engineer in him came to life, he whirled around and studied the consoles nearest to the core with great interest. "Wow...this thing can probably reach Warp 6, or even higher. I bet they can give the Vulcans a run for their money."

T'Pol had joined them, but wisely choose to ignore the last statement Trip had made and scanned the massive engine. "It appears to cover 4 decks, each connected by a primitive elevator and a single one way ladder." She said, looking up to where the yellow, glass like core disappeared from view into the ceiling.

"Don't encourage him." Malcolm muttered under his breath. T'Pol answered this statement with a blank stare.

"Four decks!" Trip exclaimed and Malcolm groaned. T'Pol straightened and clasped her hands behind her back while directing her calm but piercing look at Trip.

"Commander, this is not the time to indulge ourselves in alien engine designs. We need to find a way to access the ship's logs and try to find out if there are any survivors." Her voice was calm but demanding and even though there were no traces of emotion in it, Malcolm couldn't help but feel there was a certain accusing quality in the statement. Trip seemed to have picked on it as well and winced visibly.

"Of...Of course, I didn't mean..." The engineer started, but his voice faltered and his gaze lowered which evoked the impression he was studying his boots in great interest.

"I suggest we start now." T'Pol continued, tilting her head slightly. "The UT should be able to decipher most of the symbols, but we may have to call in Ensign Sato's expertise."

"Why don't we just download the logs to our pads and translate it back on Enterprise." Malcolm said, frustrated by the fact that they appeared to have to spent a lot more time on the drifting ship than he had previously anticipated.

"That would only work if we knew exactly which information to download. However, we do not. Thus, to prevent the risk of leaving without the required logs, we should translate the data and find out where we can find the ship's sensor readings. Unless you are suggesting we download the ship's _entire _database, Lieutenant?" T'Pol answered Malcolm's question and the man's eyebrows rose abruptly while he wondered if Vulcans actually had to ability to be sarcastic.

"Translating it is, then." He replied with a slight shrug.

* * *

Corporal Romero sat in the back seat of the shuttlepod, staring sullenly through the open hatch at the closed door at the other side of the room. He was swinging his right leg up and down against the pod's steel frame in a certain rhythm. With one hand he held his EM-41 Phase rifle, pressing the back of the weapon against his hip for support.

224. There were exactly 224 screws in the frame of the door. He frowned as he noted a certain pattern; There were 124 tiles on the floor of the docking port, if you counted up the halves. And there were 24 lights covering the ceilings and walls, if you counted all of them and not just those that were on.

A noise made him stop his musings and he abruptly stopped the swinging of his leg while he listened intently. There was a soft clang somewhere far above him, barely audible and the Corporal briefly wondered if he had heard it all. As softly as he could he took the scanner from his pocket, fumbling with it for a few moments before the screen popped up. He held still and listened, his head tilted slightly to one side to improve his hearing. His heart hammered against the inside of his ears and he idly wondered if the rhythmic beat didn't intervene with his ability to pick up sounds from his surroundings. There were no more clangs, or whatever noises he had heard earlier, for some time and finally he shot a quick look at his scanner. The device wasn't picking up anything, life-signs or otherwise, so the Corporal tucked it back in his pocket, his now free hand clasping the Phase rifle and he lifted and trained it on the door.

Several moments passed and nothing even resembling something noteworthy happened. It had probably been nothing, just his bored mind playing tricks on him. Or maybe even just a fried plasma relay somewhere in the ship above, fizzling before finally giving up the fight and dying out. Nothing interesting and nothing to be concerned about. He let himself relax and shot the door one more long hard glare before returning his attention the docking room. Maybe the wall markings would prove a challenge, there seemed to be a lot of those.

He started counting.

* * *

"This is...strange." T'Pol said, her lips pursed as if she didn't like using such a common phrase for something she would undoubtedly call a complex situation. Sergeant's Kemper, who didn't much care for alien databases and cared more for making sure nobody sneaked up on them hesitated to reply to the statement. However, he knew it had been clearly directed at him since he was the only one else in the room. Thus, to avoid coming across as impolite to a superior officer, he decided to reply, albeit as short as possible.

"Ma'am?" He ventured, hoping whatever seemed to be 'strange' about the information the Science Officer was studying didn't mean any trouble for the away team.

"I have discovered the ship's logs." T'Pol answered and Kemper's heart lifted at once. This was good news, because it meant the search was over and they could find Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. The Vulcan science officer had suggested to split up the team so as to increase their search effectiveness. The Lieutenant had of course fought this decision, and the Sergeant agreed with the man. Splitting up was bad news, especially in a hostile environment. Surely Vulcans had some kind of equivalent to Earth's cartoons which taught children at a young age that sticking together as a group meant a higher survival rate?

However, Commander Tucker had taken his chance to discover more about the ship's engine and had immediately agreed with T'Pol, barely hiding his excitement. Lieutenant Reed had been fuming but couldn't begin much of a fight against two superior officers and thus he had sulked spectacularly while following the Commander to the deck above them. Returning to the current conversation, Kemper was detecting a 'but' somewhere in T'Pol's statement. He shot the Vulcan a quick questioning look, hoping the subcommander would pick up his outward signs of impatience and carry on with whatever was bothering her.

"However," T'Pol continued, and Kemper did all he could to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "there seems to be a problem with the last few entries."

"Having trouble translating it?" Kemper asked, knowing that he couldn't avoid the conversation altogether, so he might as well show some signs that he was listening. He was pretty sure that ignoring a superior officer was considered rude to say the least.

"No, the UT seems to have picked up the written language very quickly. There are some...odd translations in some places but the overall result is quite accurate." T'Pol reported, not tearing her eyes from the UT's display screen. "The problem lies with the fact that there seem to be nothing noteworthy to translate."

Kemper was baffled and frowned. "Excuse me, Ma'am, nothing noteworthy? I think that a ship being attacked and practically blown up is pretty noteworthy, if you don't mind me saying." He was stating the obvious, he knew, however the Vulcan officer's slow and patient way of explaining was getting to him.

"Exactly." T'Pol answered and turned to look at the MACO. "But there are no sensor readings of interest prior to the attack, or even within the time frame that the attack must have occurred. The sensors did not detect an alien ship and there are no signs of the ship suddenly being violently infiltrated by assailants from a vessel nearby, cloaked or otherwise."

"Are you sure that those are the correct logs then?" Kemper asked, doubt filling his mind. Had they gone through all this trouble for nothing?

"I am certain."T'Pol said simply and clasped her hands behind her back. She made to turn away but hesitated and returned her attention once more of the MACO. "We best inform the Commander and Lieutenant Reed." She stated, giving the Sergeant a pointed look.

* * *

"Commander, take a look at this." Malcolm said, eyeing his UT with a certain air of suspiciousness. Trip tore his gaze from the engine specs he had been pouring over and turned around to the armoury officer. The man was standing next to one of the consoles, hidden partially from view by a bulkhead. On the other side of it a narrow corridor lead to the elevators.

"You found something?" He asked, hovering behind Malcolm, peering over his shoulder. The Brit nodded, and pointed a finger at the display in front of him.

"I think that's us." He said and Trip blinked in a moment of confusion.

"That's just one big, red blip." He pointed out, wondering what Malcolm was getting to. The other man sighed and typed some things on the monitor, while carefully checking his actions on the UT.

"It's the ship's layout, or these lower decks anyway. I think if I can zoom in,-" His right hand tapped away at the console and the display changed appearances several times, though none of them made much sense to Trip. "-I could probably get it to show our life-signs separately." Malcolm finished, and suddenly Trip was beginning to understand what the man was getting to.

"That way we can look for survivors. Good work, Lieutenant!" He said, and slapped Malcolm on the back, who gave a little grunt in response.

"This is more difficult than I expected, the layout is vastly different than anything I've ever seen." The Armoury Officer replied, screwing up his face in concentration as he tapped in commands and his eyes flew back and forth between the display and the UT. "Hold on..." The display monitor showed the layout and the big red dot on it, and then changed to a different layout, showing two smaller dots. The scene changed again, moving upwards, showing several dots overlapping each other. Malcolm frowned.

"That's...a start. Let's see..." His hand danced across the command panel as information scrolled across the UT in his left hand. The layout changed once again, showing a small, blinking dot. Malcolm straightened his back and nodded in appreciation.

"I'm fairly certain that that is Corporal Romero." The display zoomed out, moving over to a bigger, red dot, and then zoomed in once again. "Those two are...I think that's the Subcommander and the Sergeant, and this..." The scene scrolled up. Malcolm's hand stopped in mid motion and the man practically turned to stone. There was a sudden, deafening silence. After a second or two, Trip felt compelled to speak.

"If that's us...then who's the third dot?" The engineer whispered softly, but his voice seemed to cause Malcolm to spring into action. The Lieutenant grabbed his phase pistol, which he had returned previously to it's holster, and turned around. Too late, however, when seemingly out of nowhere a metal pipe collided with his wrist, sending the pistol flying. Malcolm swore, loudly. Trip could barely register any of this when the pipe already whipped around and hit the engineer in the back of his head, sending him sprawling down on the deck plating.

"Stay away!" A shrill, high voice screamed and Trip opened his eyes. He saw the Lieutenant scrambling for his pistol, which had skidded to a halt a few feet away. The armoury officer grabbed it and whipped around almost instantly, one knee on the floor, pointing the weapon somewhere behind Trip. However, the phase fire the engineer had been expecting failed to appear. After a moment or two the Lieutenant got up.

"Are you all right, Commander?" Malcolm asked, his eyes trained somewhere behind Trip, his weapon still at the ready. Trip heaved himself up, stars danced before his eyes but they quickly dissolved. He looked to his right and noticed that nobody was there. He rubbed the back his head and groaned.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He replied, puzzled by the whole ordeal that had taken place in less than a few seconds. "What the hell just happened?"

"One of the aliens. The UT was on, he probably heard our whole conversation." Malcolm said, matter-of-factly, walking over to help his friend to his feet. "He fled up the stairs, to the deck above us."

"He didn't have to beat the shit out of us." Trip said, bewildered. He was confused, and a little hurt. "We're here to help them, damnit." His head seemed ready to explode, but he ignored the pain as best as he could.

"He doesn't know that." Malcolm replied, but kept his eyes trained on the ladder positioned a couple of feet away. "Probably thinks we're attacking his ship." He was interrupted by the chirping of Trip's communicator. The engineer took it out of his sleeve and opened it.

"Tucker." He said bitterly, casting a look at the ladder.

"Commander, we have succeeded in locating the ship's final logs." T'Pol's voice floated out from the little device.

"Great." Trip answered, and gritted his teeth. "We managed to 'locate' a survivor. But he wasn't exactly thrilled to see us." Trip added, but before he even finished his sarcastic reply the ship rocked, causing the two officers to grab for support. The still, yellowish matter in the ship's core suddenly sprang to life and a siren began to go off.

"What the hell is that?" Trip screamed, startled. He cast a quick glance at Malcolm. Saying the man looked alarmed was an understatement. The reply came from the communicator rather than from Trip's companion.

"The core appears to be overloading. My scans suggest that a hull breach is imminent." T'Pol said, a hint of alarm in her voice.

"Can't we stop it?" Trip asked, grabbing for support once more when the ship rocked more violently than before.

"Highly unlikely, we know nothing about this technology." The reply came and Trip bit his lip, thinking fast. "I suggest we evacuate immediately." T'Pol stated, but Trip shook his head.

"What about the survivors?" He asked, not wanting to leave anybody.

"I think it's just the one, actually." Malcolm shouted, interrupting. "And I think our 'little friend' is the one who initiated the overload."

"Commander." T'Pol's voice cut through Malcolm's statement. "If we do not leave immediately we won't be able to make it to the shuttlepod."

"Great." Trip bit back, but knew he had no other choice and he motioned for the Lieutenant to take the ladder down.

* * *

To be Continued

I actually planned to write more but the chapter was beginning to get too long. Thank you for reading and reviews are always welcome!


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